


Not Angry (The Ring)

by NixVicious



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek is bitter and incapable of just saying what he wants, Divorce, M/M, Post-breakup, Stiles just doesn't give a fuck, implied Stydia/Stisaac/Stanny, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:04:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixVicious/pseuds/NixVicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One upon a time ago Love used to mean something. Theirs just flickered out along the way. And this is exactly the disaster he expected it to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Angry (The Ring)

 

 

 Inspired by this [amazing bit of prose](http://thecaseydonahue.com/post/45884424591) by [caseydonahue](http://thecaseydonahue.com) while browsing the tumblr prose/lit tag a few weeks ago, and also by [this post](http://girleverafter.tumblr.com/post/35281725281/i-still-got-the-ring-you-know-he-is-straining) from [girleverafter](http://girleverafter.tumblr.com/) who I promised since November last year to try my hand at that little prompt she wrote.

This is the end result of my merging the two.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

"You look angry."

"I'm not angry. This is how I usually look."

"You haven't always looked like this though. You didn't look like this when we first met."

Derek doesn't say anything in response to that. The sun is really bright, almost too bright and Stiles wishes for a moment that he never agreed to this in the first place, to meet. But he's an adult and this is how you handle things like an adult. He orders orange juice. Doesn't ask if Derek wants anything. He's more than capable of doing that himself if he wants.

It's cool out despite how bright the sun is. Stiles is wearing a light jacket. It's a soft charcoal grey, brand new, and he loves it. It shows off the broad leanness of his shoulders and just how much he's filled out, the not too large bulges of his biceps accentuated quite nicely. Lydia has said so very vocally on numerous occasions. And he supposes that the constant flickers of Derek's gaze over his upper torso validates her statements. They say nothing more to each other.

The waitress comes back with a small pitcher of orange juice and only one glass. The lines have been drawn, he's just making sure Derek's aware that it's happening. She places them carefully on the table closer to his side since it is his order after all. Stiles reaches out and takes the glass from her before she can set it next to the pitcher, long fingers curling warmly over her own and then drawing back slowly enough that she glances up at him in time to catch the smile and wink he throws her way as thanks. She flushes prettily before retreating to another table for their order. He's still grinning even as Derek glares daggers at him.

"You're ridiculous and childish."

"And you're an insufferable asshole."

Derek grits his teeth in silence. Stiles doesn't respond any further and a stifling quiet falls over their table once again. Well not stifling for Stiles since a light breeze blows just then, carrying whiffs of blueberries and sangria and summer on it. It's pleasant and feels nice and light jacket so hey Stiles is great. He raises the glass to his lips and relishes the cold citrus sliding down his throat, lips slipping over the rim in a way that makes Derek want to reach across the table and pitch the damn thing all the way into the ocean. They are nowhere near the ocean right now.

Where they are is seated at an outside table on the patio overlooking sprawling gardens. Everything is in bloom, the trees are covered in red and pink flowers, the vibrant green carpet beneath their boughs littered with thousands of tiny petals. Stiles thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's seen lately. Apart from the sight of a naked Lydia fast asleep on his bed, wrapped in his sheets and nothing else, long hair splayed out on the pillow and down her bare back, morning sunlight gleaming across her skin. That was only yesterday. Just the thought of it makes his throat dry. He wonders if she'll be there when he gets back to his apartment. The trellis above them is covered in vines of deep purple, three-petaled flowers whose name he does not know. He wishes he knew more about plants and trees but as it stands he only knows what he knows.

And what he knows is that, "Oh my god I hate this song. It's awful!" because really no one wants to listen to a nineties one hit wonder try to be relevant in the twenty-first century. Dub-step does not make you relevant.

He did like the song playing before it though, from The Corrs. Now there's a nineties band he could always listen to. 'Only When I Sleep' will forever hold a special place in his heart. Just don't ask him why. That story is no one's business but his.

"Do you plan on wasting the rest of my afternoon?" Derek growls like he's on the last vestiges of his patience.

"You're the one that wanted to meet. I've got nothing to say. You know where I stand. So the purpose of whatever this is is lost on me."

He's not going to make this easy. He's been through quite enough already so fuck you but he'll sit the mental derailing out this round. Derek must have spent a lot of time practicing new ways to contort his face into the most disgusted, repulsed, irritated combinations possible because that's not a face Stiles has ever seen before, and he's seen a lot of Derek's faces. Some more than others.

"That has to seriously be the ugliest attempt at post-modernist contemporary art I have ever seen!" he suddenly blurts as his eyes fall on a piece being brought into the garden below them.

The transporters are still fussing over the perfect spot to settle it in. It's all very amusing. But Stiles' artistic eye is so _not_ amused by the hideousness that is that thing. The restaurant totally just lost major brownie points for their terrible taste in art. He could recommend a few eclectic pieces that would be far more appealing than this hulking stone monstrosity.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Derek flexing his fingers, curling them in and out like he can't decide whether he wants to punch Stiles or slap him in the face.

"The ring Stiles," he finally spits out, looking for all the world like he just sucked on the nastiest lemon ever.

Stiles is still staring off into the distance, not so much as a flinch or a flutter of his eyelashes to indicate a reaction of some kind. There's no hitch in his breathing to give off even a hint of surprise, and Derek should know since he's been staring intently at the side profile of Stiles' adam's apple since he mentioned the thing.

"Well? Do you have it or not?"

Ah there it is. The real crux of the matter. All this drama just to "ask" for the ring back. Derek's voice is that familiar low growl Stiles used to wake up to once upon a time a long time ago in a land far, far away, accompanied by a warm body holding him down and long fingers tracing patterns over naked skin. He should feel something he thinks, some kind of deep sorrow over the fact that he won't have that anymore, that he hasn't had that for the past year. But he doesn't, he doesn't feel a thing.

How lovely it is to see that Derek's social skills have deteriorated so wonderfully since they ended things. Stiles refrains from snorting loudly, though he wants to badly. It's been sitting in his pocket waiting. He pulls it out and flips it onto the table like a coin. It lands sideways, spinning round a couple times before landing flat on the tabletop and clattering to a stop rather noisily. The silver circlet gleams in the sunlight filtering through the leaves above them, glinting across the planes of Derek's face which has gone all tabula rassa, and catches in the irises of his eyes, reflecting as tiny flecks of gold in between the greens and browns. It would be beautiful except that it's a color only visible at times like this. And this is the exact opposite of anything Stiles would ever call beautiful.

He continues sipping at his juice until Derek finally moves, arm stretching out so his fingers can reach the ring and curl their tips possessively around the band of tempered metal that once represented so many things: hope, trust, belief. Love. Now it's simply a shadow of everything they used to be. A symbol of broken vows, broken promises, broken dreams. Just broken things. A representation of everything they’ve lost.

A muscle works in Derek’s jaw as he turns the ring over and over in his hand, the line of his eyebrows set in a permanent frown, shoulders wrought with tension. Once upon a time Stiles would have smoothed that crinkled brow with his fingers and rubbed the strain right out of those broad shoulders, but now he just wants to go back to his apartment and Lydia and maybe Isaac if he isn't working. Danny if he is.

"Why so angry?" Stiles says after a beat of observing Derek’s facial expressions, because he's clutching it so tightly his nails are digging very visibly and deeply into the palm of his hand.

"I'm not angry."

Apparently they've gone back to the beginning of this conversation. So Stiles says the one thing he knows will annoy Derek even more.

"Okay."

Derek hates when he gives one word answers that sounded patronising more than anything else. He takes a gleeful, sadistic pleasure in knowing that he's just adding more fuel to the fire because he doesn't have to care. He doesn't have to do a damn thing when it comes to Derek-fucking-Hale anymore. Except that sometimes he feels things that he really doesn't want to but then again it's kind of hard not to because...Derek. Which is more than sufficient reasoning for anyone who knows the guy. So he lets the unwanted emotions overrun him and then he drinks some more juice which is no longer simply juice but now has vodka mixed into it (the moment Derek’s eyebrows decided they wanted to get married to each other was the indicator that things were only going to go downhill from there and he knew he would need alcohol of some kind to keep him sufficiently numb to whatever would come after).

***

Brunch turns out to be the absolute disaster he expected it to be. Derek had apparently determined to be the most purposely constipated asshole to Stiles today and his eternally sour disposition ruins the taste of Stiles' Chicken Carbonara and Fettucini Alfredo. He orders the spicy Cajun Jumbo Shrimp also because he eats what he wants and unlike Derek, Isaac lets Stiles eat and lick whatever he desires off of Isaac's various body parts so this will be taken home to be fully enjoyed later. And even better if Lydia or Danny join them.

Stiles orders a glass of one of their best wines and takes his time to enjoy it and the sweet cherry tomato and plums cocktail that he decided on as an afterthought. It's still a beautiful day (ignoring the obvious black cloud sitting across from him) so he pointedly ignores Derek's exceedingly bitter jawline on the other side of the table.

"Well I'd say something like it's been nice but honestly I hope I never have to go through this again. That's what we have lawyers for, the next time you feel like acting like a five year old just to get your stuff back." 

Stiles finishes his wine, slips his sunglasses over his eyes and pulls out his car keys.

"Don't fucking call me again the next time you're angry because I don't owe you anything anymore."

The ginger-haired waitress (he still can’t believe that’s her real hair color because its's fucking sexy) tints an adorable shade of pink and returns a shy wave as he walks past on his way out. Maybe he'll come back for more plum cocktail if she's still around (and ask about her hair because he thinks it’d look fantastic strewed against his bedsheets). Danny's caller id shows up on the screen of his Samsung as the Mustang starts, engine roaring to life under him. Stiles puts the call on loudspeaker and pulls out of the parking lot. Good thing he ordered a large helping of that shrimp and pasta. He's missed Danny's abs.

* * *

Feel free to send me prompts on [my tumblr](http://nixvicious.tumblr.com/) if you like.


End file.
